Gaian Allegro: Cocytus
by RocketRanger
Summary: In the 15 years since her first great adventure, Freya has watched the age of Terra's tyranny sweep into an age of Gaians, enlightenment, industrialism, nationalism, and imperialism. She is no longer a knight of justice in service to her lord nor her coun
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**

I could be splitting hairs, but I am compelled to express something outside the work here. I provide some form of glossary with certain chapters as a sort of bonus, the unrestricted information that would otherwise not fit into the proper story. In my mind, it's this analytical outlook most everywhere as I observed the game and as I wrote this fanfiction. It was simply too cold and disruptive to explain what Freya is doing in the scene, yet I felt it was still worthwhile to learn. So with the glossary, it's similar to giving both sides of the same coin. The glossary isn't a sum at the end, but dispersed where appropriate breaks in the story occur. Although the chapter presentation this site provides would make such glossary appear at either end of the chapter, and not at all in the midst of the whole story if presented in a single document.

* * *

**Burmecian Outskirts, 15 years before present**

"This is how you've been instructed all this time. Why do you hesitate now?" Fratley looked on at his pupil, a child of 15 years... only a couple of years younger than himself.

"Sir Fratley, I don't know if I can learn this technique."

"Don't be silly Freya. It's the same as always. I bean you with the technique until you figure it out and use it yourself." Freya slightly scowled, suspicious that he was just picking on her. "And don't be like that. It's worked all this time, because that's how you learn best. Now, let's review this one more time. What you will learn is Cherry Blossom. It was designed to attack all directions of the opponent at the same time; a technique that cannot be blocked. To deliver this technique, you must release your willpower towards the opponent, focusing your energy upon it." He raised his bardiche, the afterimages of it echoed the spirit energy he intended to use. Before Freya appeared a dragon wisp, then a spread of blossoms flew about her. Some of the ones that breezed over her had cut at her clothes.

Realizing the potential of this technique upon her, the fear in her welled up. With emotion came retort, and with retort came intent, and with intent came the ability to emulate the technique. She raised her javelin and aimed it at Fratley. As the blossoms around her faded, a faint image of a dragon appeared before Fratley. A small cluster of blossoms harmlessly breezed over him. For a moment she disoriented.

"Now you just need to refine it. I'm going to use a real one this time, and you will too. This is the moment of truth." His stance turned serious after being slackened.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood. She was full aware that if she couldn't learn it now, she might die. The thought of death had loomed before her now. How was she to make it? Her stomach groaned, and she remembered the promise Fratley made before this training. He was going to eat lunch with her for the first time. There was no way she would miss this, and the anticipation rose within her. Her javelin reached forwards when she thought only about the date they'd finally have. She wasn't even aware of the amount of blossoms flowing from her direction. Her blossoms met with Fratley's, and they clashed. Fratley's attack overpowered hers, and the rush of blossoms swept her back. She recovered, having only taken minor cuts. Did she just live through a real contest of the technique?

"I guess it's to be expected. You learned it, but when our two Cherry Blossoms compete, mine will always win."

Hopes of finally being acknowledged were dashed by him. Was she to forever remain in his shadow, without him ever looking back? "Why... why will yours always win?"

"Because it's my ultimate technique. When our attacks meet, the willpower behind mine is greater than yours. It's impossible for anyone to break through it."

"So... that's it... " She slowly stood up. "I've failed at mastering the ultimate technique."

"Don't be silly! I still have to teach you the final technique."

"The final technique? You mean Cherry Blossom isn't the final technique?"

"No. What gave you that idea?" Freya remembered his words, and realized he never explicitly stated Cherry Blossom was the final technique.

"But you said nothing can break through it. What could possibly be greater than that?"

"I said it's impossible for any one to break through it. There's a limit to what a person can do, but not to what he accompanies with him. Yes, my Cherry Blossom is unbeatable by you, but you're going to realize that you need more that yourself to get past it. Use your head. What do you know of that can overpower the ultimate technique of one man? When you have found the answer, you will have learned the ultimate technique of the dragon knights. I will deliver another Cherry Blossom. If you haven't figured it out before it hits, then you will die."

At first Freya was baffled, having been given a mystery to an impossible challenge. There was nothing in her power to do the trick. It's as if she needed something more than herself, something beyond her scope. Then it clicked. She needed the aid of a higher power. But what higher power did she know? Even worse, what higher power would hear her plea? She thought hard on getting this supernatural help.

"Time's up." He began his technique, and pink petals appeared everywhere.

What counted as supernatural? Anything not of the physical plane? The spiritual plane? If there was anything from the spiritual plane, it was the dead. Whom did she know that died? The only creature she remembered to have died was that one small dragon. Of course! That thing was her only connection to the other side, maybe this connection is what Fratley mentioned. Her eyes closed with resolve.

"This is the moment of truth!" He unleashed the full power of Cherry Blossom. The dragon apparition this time was vivid, and the swarm of petals like a cloud that flooded at her.

With sudden instinct and heart, her soul cried out to the spirit of the dragon. She remembered when it was alive, and felt the same surge of emotions she did then. When she opened her eyes, she saw the little dragon hover before her. A second passed when it vanished, but a flat image of a dragon's face appeared in its place. The image was tiny, and the small head it portrayed burst into form. The small apparition dove into the petals, and broke the current. Freya was shielded from the deadly technique. Cherry Blossom ended, and the image also faded.

Fratley saw the end of the rather tiny final technique. Both stood, frozen in the aftermath of her discovering the technique. Frey's eyes widened, excited that she would finally gain acknowledgement. Fratley, however, burst out in laughter.

"That was your Dragon's Crest? It was so... so tiny!" It was rather rude, but then again, Fratley was still a teenager and not a mature adult. "What did you do? Underfeed a pet lizard?"

"Hey! Don't you make fun of Midgar!"

"You even named it!" He fell over in laughter.

* * *

**Glossary**

**Cherry Blossom** is a nonbiased spread of attack. It's similar to the black magic, **Flare**, but unfocused to an advantage. Normally, an attack strikes at one place at one time, but by dispersing an otherwise intense attack, it can strike at multiple places at many times. Ideally, this technique attacks everywhere all the time, and cannot be defended against. This was thought to be the supreme form of attack until the **Dragon's Crest** was developed. **1) **The improved version Freya developed is far more cruel, butchering the target with the petals, then hardening the drawn blood into more razor-sharp petals with which to further butcher the target. By this logic, the technique will not end until the victim is reduced to liquid. Even still, the haze of the technique once finished with its victim can be directed to a new target, beginning the bloodshed anew. **2)** The second stage of the move, which occurs anywhere in the first stage, draws some of the carnage into a whirl, with Freya rendering herself as the eye of this storm, becoming a bloody tornado. She can repeatedly strike her tornado and self against the victim. **3)** The third and final stage of this technique is compressing the tornado into a drill-like form. Freya will then fly up, and corkscrew-dive her shrouded self into the hopeless target.


	2. Chapter 2

**Seaways Canyon near Oeilvert, this morning**

After the memory replayed, a slight grin rose on her sober expression. It was another world back then. They were just kids left with ancient responsibility. Funny how in this pressing situation she remembered a highlight of her youth.

"What's so funny? You stood there for a minute like some idiot." Doyle's aura kept him in midair. "Face it, Freya, there's no way you can win. You can't penetrate my aura. I guess Fratley forgot to teach you how to fight from a long distance." As he crossed his arms, so too did his aura, which held the form of his image. "It only took your three tries to hit me so far, and I'm really disappointed I had to use my true power on you. If only that traitor Kal bothered to come back to us instead of losing to a weakling like you." He was unaware that Freya let Kal live.

"You always did talk too much, Doyle. Listen to yourself. You run your mouth about traitors, but what did you do when the capital was sacked? You fled just like any Burmecian that was powerless against the invaders. When you ranked among such an elite circle of warriors, you hid it in face of the genocide of our people! Your secret cult is more important to you than our country?"

"As if we'd expose our identities when Garland was still around. We had to keep our secrets back then. And you're one to talk. You waltzed out of the capital in search of that deserter."

"Yet I still returned to fight off the invaders! You still fled!"

"Bah! In the big picture, it was our elite that resurrected Burmecia into a mighty contender on this globe. Even before that invasion, Burmecia was already a crumbling shell of its ancient glory. Your order had already withered so much, only a bully like Fratley and a nerd like you carried it. Face it, Burmecia was only bending down to the countries of humans. You have seen the recent maps. Alexandria and Lindblum gradually swelled into the lands that belonged to Burmecia. The invasion sorted out the chaff of politicians and the weak king, leaving us strong to lead Burmecia back to the forefront of civilization! When it has finally taken over as the supreme state, we will title it in the ancient name it once held, that of Falgabard!"

"And in that process you turned back on our country's foundations. Valor, bravery, compassion! Those are what established our country, not this back-stabbing imperialism!"

"Weak! All weak! Our master has proven again at the superiority of our form! It is our race that dominated the world in the days before Garland. And it was our dominant race, with all its superior technology and power that taught Garland a lesson. Unfortunately for us, he waited so many millennia for our glorious empire to ebb in the dark ages. He knew that without our guiding light, we as a people could only struggle to exist as a nation, let alone fight him off again. Our guiding light was strength, those deities that made the planet tremble in their wake. One of our forebears was among them. Such was his power, even Garland couldn't duel him. We dark knights inherited that power. We name ourselves to the metal that our forefather harnessed, iron."

"Iron-Force Doyle... a shame you won't be known by that name much longer."

"And what makes you think that?"

"While the despotic lot of you were comfortable in secrecy, I improved the many flaws of the White Dragon style. Since you're so arrogant with your so-called invincible aura, I thought it best to shatter it. You have probably figured out that I tested each classical technique on you. One-by-one I used them, and each time you overcame it. You became confident that whatever I did was not enough to harm you, let alone defeat you. But I was not using the style I developed. I went easy on you, but now it's different." She took to stance, the slightly skewed version of what the technique used to call for.

"Cherry Blossom? No, it's a little off. Though your version was never like Fratley's." No image of a dragon appeared, but the petals flew about him.

"You're right. It isn't at all like Fratley's." Her expression remained cold. The petals multiplied and accelerated.

Doyle grew concerned, because some of the petals visibly cut at his aura. Still the attack gained integrity, and soon a storm of petals swarmed over him. With analytical perception, he noticed the petals to pull the aura as they cut, and use the stolen energy as added momentum. The storm grew more violent, and a stream of petals flowed into a whirl around Freya. He tried moving his arm, but the blossoms somehow anchored him.

"Fratley's version never had a second stage." Her voice, cold and logical, told of her merciless attitude. In moments, Freya was inside a tornado of cherry blossoms. The turbulent pillar sheared into his aura, and tore huge chunks of it away. Blood seeped out of his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. His aura was literally his soul, and Freya exploited this by using it against itself. In only three clashes, the tornado was fiercer that Cleyra's most intense sandstorm.

The pillar pulled back and reached to the sky. In great speed, the entire tornado was high in the air, and compressed itself to a drill shape. Freya, within this ominous shape, hurled herself back down to Doyle. As stern for this vessel of assault, a great phantom of a red dragon roared. This was the third and final stage of her Cherry Blossom, and it brutally shredded right through Doyle and his aura. The bloody mess which remained of him disintegrated into dust, then atomized. The deadly petals blew away and vanished. Only she remained there on the battlefield.

Of the five, he was the first to have died. Apparently Kal was the only one of the five with enough brains to side with Freya. Doyle was the first Burmecian she ever killed, and she didn't enjoy it. They were comrades years ago, but circumstances pitted one against the other. There was no room for sentimentality. It was a time of retribution, when Freya had to undo the future she allowed to happen. With Dragon Whisker held over her shoulder, she marched to Oeilvert, the new citadel of the Burmecian Tent Government.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oeilvert, this noon**

In the 15 years since Freya last visited this ancient structure, the Burmecian Tent Government had not only refurbished it, but erected upon it a fortress. Dozens of towers littered the exterior of the citadel, each of them containing some form of gun turrets. Gears and pneumatics perpetually cranked upon the superstructure of the fortress. Not even in Lindblum did she find as complicated a system of machinery as what laced this fort, its walls, and its towers. For a moment she wondered why such effort was made to construct this in place of rebuilding the former capital. The inevitable collapse of Burmecia was one solid reason, but still didn't explain why this location served as substitute. She only passed a boulder before seeing goblins in a chain gang. The Tent Government had resorted to slave labor to build its empire.

She approached the foreboding walls that surrounded the headquarters. Only four times her height, these metal walls would fail to stop her leaping over them. She would have done so, but the gates slid open in invitation. Beyond them was a hundred yards of a cratered courtyard. Without stepping in, she saw ashes in each crater. She had to keep going. The entrance to Oeilvert proper was straight ahead.

As soon as one foot stepped into the secluded area, her ears perked at mechanical sounds. Instinctively, she leapt to the side, and not a moment too soon. Right where she stood had become a scorched hole. Again she heard the nose, and looked to see the source. One of the spires had an ocular device that fired a beam of light at her. She blocked the energy with Dragon Whisker, only to see the rest of the spires open.

In a quick leap, she was at their level. With a simple thrust, she launched an image of her spearhead at the device. Really, this projectile was a compressed packet of energy and air that took on the shape of its conductor, the head of Dragon Whisker. She landed, and jumped once more to fire at another. With this pattern, she broke all of the sentry spires. Clapping commended her display of skill.

"Well done!" Upon a buttress stood another familiar face; Gary. "You've certainly come a long way from depending on Fratley."

"Oh, it's only you." She insultingly relaxed.

"Don't you dare say it like 'Oh, you're on fire.' You're awfully cocky for only defeating Doyle. Give up and go home, Freya. We're only rebuilding the empire of our ancestors. I thought you, of all people, would be supportive."

"It's not easy to remain loyal when your government stabs you in the back. Burmecia held nothing for me anymore anyway."

"Treason... the warrant of a death penalty."

"Is it? This state is built on fraud. This vision you proclaim is a joke. Gaia is meant for everyone, not a master race."

"Spare me the lecture. You only came here to fight. That's all you ever cared about; fighting to get noticed by the man who never took you seriously. You're really just a shallow person who only learned to keep her mouth shut rather than open it and look stupid."

"If that's what you think, then so be it. I'm not that low to seek your approval."

Gary lost his cool. "Don't you pick your nose in front of me! I'll have to teach you a lesson! Pretender dragon knight, you have not yet faced the black blade!"

Freya's ear twitched. She was told of one who wielded such a sword. Although well-aware Gary was Iron-Eye, his use of the black blade was news to her. Freya took stance, aware of the risk she faced. Unlike the last dark knight, Gary could attack from all ranges. He didn't leave his spot on the ledge, but an unnatural wind breezed about him. His hand was close to his hilt, ready to draw for a deadly slice.

In the blink of an eye, Freya stuck Dragon Whisker into the ground before her. A wisp of shadow had snapped against the shaft and retreated. Freya studied her opponent, and found unconventional difficulty. Such was the black blade, able to strike from shadow. Gary didn't even need to draw the demonic weapon.

Gary leapt down before Freya. She saw his right eye was shut from a scar, and his left eye was normal. "Come on. Show me one of those dragon techniques." His smirk quickly vanished when he lost sight of her. As if guided by supernatural means, he raised his sheathed sword and turned around. Dragon Whisker struck the scabbard. "What's this? You never moved like that before." Shadows branched from the sheath. In that split-second, Freya was being swallowed by darkness. "It won't matter how fast you are, I will always know where you are, what you're doing..." His smirk returned. "... and what you're thinking."

Freya grit her teeth in frustration. She was grossly misinformed about Iron-Eye's abilities. With her now-useless assumptions, she didn't expect to use a technique here. However, it became obvious he was far more difficult than Iron-Force. There were two dark knights after Iron-Eye, and they would surely take an advantage over her if her surprise attack was delayed. Dragon apparitions emanated off her as she glowed. The darkness clamped down on her to crush her. It was too late, however, as she was already behind Gary.

Gary pivoted and defended with shadows, but they were useless to her strikes. Every motion of Freya was accompanied by images of green dragons. A multitude of the colored specters flowed from her. Gary's eye widened in shock. He identified this strange attack as a combination of techniques. Lancer, Reis Wind, White Draw, and Luna were all there at once. Even he could not foresee the genius application of what he considered stale moves when used alone. He knew when she would strike and how, but knowledge didn't matter anymore. Her power was simply too great that it overwhelmed his defenses. The shadows melted away from the cuts, and he suffered from her onslaught.

In a burst of anger, a surge of darkness swept from him. He thought he pushed her back, but was instead met with a nasty thrust to his backside. He tumbled after a considerable time in the air. She had grazed his kidney only because his shadow deflected the blow from his spine. How was such performance possible? He stood, now angered. Freya was positive he had more tricks up his sleeve. He revealed his right eye, a beacon of purple light. Upon seeing it, fear griped her entire being. His right arm raised the sheathed Murasame before him. Paralyzed, Freya quickly raised the power of her White Form. With heightened metabolism, the fear was drowned in adrenaline. There was no telling how severe his illusions could be.

Gray drew his dark blade, the legendary Murasame. With steady elegance and speed, he let loose a flurry of slashes at Freya. Blades of shadow extended his reach, and clashed against Dragon Whisker. The legendary spear resonated with the blows. Something about these weapons intrinsically opposed. Regardless, Freya quickly picked up on his strategy. White Form required motion, and he pinned her in place at his range. Once White Form exhausted, she would be easy prey. Again she raised the potential within Lancer. Despite the myriad slashes of darkness, she parried all of them. In a blur of speed, she dug Dragon Whisker into his heart.

However, the body she struck was nothing more than black muck. It pooled at her feet, and left her to guess where her opponent's location. No matter where she turned, the shadow remained at her back and stealthily raised an arm out. Murasame formed in its hand, and would have stabbed her had not Freya increased her miraculous technique. The shadow disrupted, and she detected the foreign body. In a sudden spin, she whipped the darkness off her.

The reformed Gary was still more the wiser to Freya's charge. He created a wall of darkness. From it spewed countless needles. At her current state, she could only brace herself as hundreds of dark needles traveled at her. With sudden conviction to make it through, she increased White Form to maximum potential. Not even a fraction of a second passed when she cleared a dozen fathoms of distance. She not only parried each needle, but reflected them all at the precise angle to hit her opponent. Gary saw the incoming attack, saw what it would amount to, but couldn't defend himself. Freya had simply overwhelmed him with raw speed more so than technique.

With forceful impacts to his body, Freya swatted him around like a fly. Each hit had sent him airborne a dozen fathoms in a given direction. Once he landed and tumbled, she batted him again. Even his shadows couldn't keep up with his battered body. Freya then punted him over the old section of Oeilvert. He crashed through stained glass on his way in. She followed him inside, but lost track of him in the dim interior.

Machines whirred and churned. Conveyor belts carried ore to crushers. From these crushers, conveyor belts ran the gravel to the smelting facilities. Instantly Freya recognized what went on. Her youthful days in Burmecia allowed her to firsthand learn the metal production that Burmecia prided itself on. Yet this refinery seemed to extract more than metals. She shook off the distraction and continued pursuit of Gary.

In minutes, the shadow of Gary approached Freya. Because of his darkness, he was invisible in this dim environment. With command of distant darkness, Gary delivered his voice from afar. "Are you afraid of the dark?" With glee he watched her struggle to find the source of his voice in vain. With the trifle fun, he continued his stalk.

Freya lost her breath, and White Form, from the sudden ambush. White Form was the only defense she had, and it barely pushed Murasame from a vital organ. Blood seeped out from her wound, and she turned to only see darkness. Laughter resounded from all directions as darkness spread from her wound to the rest of her body. She only made three steps before losing posture. Not satisfied with afflicting her with darkness, he struck again. She managed to block the slash, but the attack was intended to cut her in two. Although blocked, the blow forced her onto a conveyor belt. Her vision distorted, her pulse slowed, and her body numbed.

Gary, still the darkness, hovered above her with his final blow ready. Just as he dove the black blade onto her, a sudden radiance blinded him. With a tremendous brilliance and force, Freya jerked up, and hurled him far away. This energy clung to him like his shadow did to Freya. Still in midair, he couldn't draw darkness to himself. Murasame cracked and broke. He landed upon an upright lever, which skewered his heart. Desperately he grabbed at the lever, but he eventually swooned. Without darkness, his body regained weight, and pulled the lever down. The conveyors stopped.

Freya stood, though winded. Dragon's Breath demanded much of her. Despite her best efforts with Reis Wind, the wound refused to fully heal. White Form was supposed to run its course gradually, but the sudden halt Gary imposed on her had painful consequences. Her body ached all over as a mild fever harried her. Her clothes were more than tattered now because of White Form. Despite this expense of health, she was determined to continue her crusade. Reis Wind kept her walking forward, deeper into the stronghold. There were two dark knights left, both of them greater than Doyle and Gary.

* * *

**Glossary**

**Lancer** used to be a move that temporarily boosted one's own abilities. Normally, a person operates at 10 to 50 physical capacity to prevent injury. For a few seconds, this original technique loosens that safeguard to allow the body to reach past his 50 potential. The spirit energy and compact bursts of air, which accompany the movement, resemble dragons. The new version of this technique isn't a single moment, but a continuous state of being. At will, the user operates at a variable increased potential, even 100 capacity.

**Reis Wind** was a move that evoked dragon spirits to bestow their spirit energy onto the user and whomever else is in proximity as a means to restore the body. This resulted in the same effect as the spell **Regen**. The upgrade, however, operates on a fluid basis. As a continuous state, this technique compounds itself when necessary.

**White Draw** formerly took free spirit energy of nature based on how much spirit energy another had, and roughly converted it into the user's spirit energy. Freya's personal form of this technique is much stronger, consistently draining its target of spirit energy. Since there are no cues given by this technique, it remains undetected. This is how Freya can wear down opponents in prolonged battles.

**Luna**, in the classic style, magnifies the user's physical power, but compromises his reasoning capacity. Freya has perfected it in such a way, the consequences of added power occurs on a scapegoat object, such as the very clothes Freya wears. As the sacrificed bears the strain, Freya is relatively unharmed. This allows Freya to endure terrific physical strain.

Freya has combined these four techniques together, putting Freya in a perpetual super-state. She calls this **White Form**.


	4. Chapter 4

**Oeilvert Imperial Headquarters Proper, this afternoon**

The stronghold was two-fold. The original structure remained, but was refitted to a refinery. Built on top of this ancient facility was the fortress. In climbing the floors of this citadel, Freya observed the machinery integrated into the building. However, it seemed as if the machinery could seperate from the concrete. Upon reaching the higher levels, she came across incomplete construction amid elaborate wall panels to hide the machinery. As a headquarters, the government apparently wanted decoration, but was unable to finish it all before her arrival.

It was within a grand chamber that Freya encountered a cloaked figure. With caution, she approached until the person spoke. "Our coup succeeded because of you." The voice was female.

"Yet you discarded me like a broken toy when you gained control of the kingdom. You threw away so many traditions in favor of a military regime. I was such a fool to buy the garbage you people preached. You never wanted to just rebuild Burmecia, you only wanted to fashion Burmecia into Falgabard as the supreme nation. I was your lap dog once, but now I bite back."

"I guess it's impossible to persuade you otherwise." She paused when her tail swished pensively. "You don't even know who I am, do you?"

"I don't remember a female with office in Burmecia."

"I thought so. Technically I shouldn't be involved, but my blood heritage beckoned me to join. As a Cleyran, my understanding of Burmecian history is only a good ten years strong. However, I am a dark knight as was my father, and his father, and so on. My lineage somehow took refuge in Cleyra, and we adopted Cleyran ways. But I was born with tremendous power. I was ashamed of my power until it grew stronger than the elements. The curse became a blessing, and allowed me to achieve status among maidens. We've met only once before, Freya, but even then I could tell you and I are similar."

"Only two maidens survived Cleyra's destruction. Which one are you?"

She pulled her hood back. Freya now recognized her as Shannon, the water maiden. "I lost more than my home, Freya. That's why I united with the other dark knights. Surely you understand the need to belong as profoundly as I have."

"I didn't come here to sympathize. I came to put an end to this travesty."

"Travesty! Damnit, Freya! Do you not realize it's you who is the enemy? Our legendary nation can finally rise again, and you wish to destroy that?"

"Look around you. Is this what a country at peace does? You wrestled control from the king, and only succeeded at forging a world war machine. If I let this abomination continue, Gaia would suffer a terrible burden of your imperialism!"

"You're such a very stubborn person!" She paused and regained her cool. "That's fine, as I am too." She raised an arm and her outer cloak burned away to reveal a red cape with blue markings. "If it weren't for Falgabard, I would have no refuge as a person. As a child, I was frightened by my powers. But when I realized what being a dark knight meant, I took pride in my identity. I became the water maiden because I was more powerful than even water. Yet water isn't my power. The winds I control can force and cut away anything. So hot are my flames that even water burns away. Such is my power that even the irrelevant, even the opposite elements must submit to my will. I am the fire that controls water!"

Freya's eyes narrowed. The second strongest of the dark knights, she was told, commanded both wind and fire even greater than eidolons. Shannon was Iron-Breath, the likeness of a true dragon's power.

Shannon quickly dropped her raised arm. As her arm fell, a thread of fire flowed from her pointed finger, and it coursed through the air above. In a split-second, the thread was curtain of flame that fell upon Freya. It was White Form that allowed the ex-dragoon to evade the fires. No sooner did she take stance when a column of fire swept against her. She took the blast head-on, and landed beyond it. Patches of her clothes broke away as ashes. The tingle in the back of mind was a memorable indicator of her defense against fire. Her spirit energy over her body, with proper willpower, insulated some of the heat. This drained her resources at a high rate, however."

"You can't escape my fire curtain!" At her command, four such threats surrounded Freya. They fell, and trapped her within a cramped prison of flame. The heat intensified, and Freya stumbled from the lack of air.

Faced with death, Freya grit her teeth with the carnal drive to live. White Form took to its maximum, the power just enough for Freya's single swipe to blow a hole in the wall of fire. She rushed to freedom, but met a terrible snag around her. A whip of flame had caught and seered into her. Shannon drew Freya in with the hellishw hip. However, Dragon Whisker was already in mid-thrust to her skull, its wielder quick to use an advantage against the opponent. Shannon released Freya before the blade completed its aggression. Once again surprised, and unable to react properly to this action, Freya fell victim to a great column of fire that Shannon hurled at her. Swallowed by the fire, Freya kept focus and used the blaze to conceal her retaliation. Dragon Whisker shot from the fire and grazed Shannon's hair. The flames diminished and allowed Freya to see her attack miss.

"That should have hit... my aim is never wrong!"

"Already you found out the hard way where the wind is my defense. I always keep a current of wind around me to ward off attacks. You made a foolish mistake, leaving yourself unarmed." She approached Freya with lowered guard. Freya had knelt rather submissively.

"I underestimated..." Shannon was nearly upon the ex-dragoon. It was a distortion of heated air that bent light enough to reveal a smirk in the corner of Freya's mouth. Shannon tried to jump away, but wasn't fast enough. In seconds, Freya had held an almost invisible wire around her neck. "Your stupidity!"

Shannon struggled for a moment, but stopped. Heat welled up around them, and fire danced upon her. Freya was forced to let go when a blaze spewed against her. Escape was fruitless, as Shannon unleashed a combination of her fiery melee techniques. In dance, she gracefully trailed fire to her movements, and with them struck Freya. She did not even need to touch Freya as the fires gently flew from her hands against Freya. It was after several dozen blasts of flame that Freya grasped Shannon's wrist. Recklessly, she tightened her grip on the fiery arm. Pain was out of mind to Freya, who focused only on victory. Anger within Freya gave her unprecedented strength. She practically whipped Shannon's wirey frame toward a wall. Recoil from forcing Shannon away aided her leap backward to the opposite wall. She regained Dragon Whisker in the precious seconds. White Form pushed her body to the limits, her speed so incredible she blurred towards Shannon, who only landed her feet upon the wall to relaunch herself. There wasn't enough time for Shannon to avoid Freya, so she instead raised an intense fire around her.

Both opponents clashed with their special abilities in a stalemate. Shannon grinned as her fire and wind increased in power as Freya could only hit her limits in White Form. With the advantage, Shannon detonated a tremendous blast of compressed fire at Freya, but held the continuing combustion around herself. This tiny explosion forced an inferno into incredible density that it violently destroyed whatever it touched. Dragon Whisker, a fragment of ancient invincibility, still held against this challenge. However, Freya felt her sinews tear and her breath stolen. The pain of the burnt skin took hold. Her vigor had burnt away. This dangerous ball of power before her had deprived most of the air, pulled her closer, and outlasted the majority of White Form. Unless the situation changed, this attack would kill her. There was one technique she reserved until now, and she hoped to not use it. Six Dragons, the gamble of dragon knights, was her only escape. In this torrent of life and death, she had to execute it perfectly lest it or the inferno destroy her.

Energy gathered about her, and her burns and wounds healed. Her body, which would have broken under current pressures, was renewed. It was the intent to live that brought success of Six Dragons. Once it healed her completely, she had enough stamina for another White Form. She returned full force against it, and pushed it back. Shannon, who observed her nasty trick, took surprise and impression. With enough momentum, Freya delivered a fierce slash at the firey globe. Not only did it cleave, but the air around it sundered with a deadly vacuum. Shannon had succumbed to its pull. Like a prey to the dragon's fangs, she was unable to defend against Freya's slash. If she wasn't so preoccupied with worry of getting struck, Shannon would've been sure she heard the roar of a dragon. The indestructible spear sliced across her collarbone, chest, and hip. By Freya's reckoning, the slash should've completely cut her in two, but that damn shield of air had buffered the cut to only graze Shannon. However, the force of the entire motion blew Shannon back a distance. Blood gently seeped from the large cut. Really, it was a mess of many cuts that only appeared as one wound. Even the shield of wind could not fully distribute the dynamics of what cut her. Continued stress would cause her defense to fail entirely.

Once she saw the blood on her hand that clutched the wound, Shannon fully realized how deadly this fight was. She regained her cool, and observed that Freya held still. "You didn't finish me off right away?"

Freya panted. Blood trickled from her nose. Six Dragons, although successful, came with a price. Surgical precision of the mind was necessary to sacrifice the appropriate material. Her clothes, which had already tattered from her earlier duels, shredded away in many places. When she began her crusade against the Tent Government, she had adopted a fashion much like that of the man she loved. Despite the greater ruggedness than her gear of long ago, half of it barely remained. Her shingaurds warped from the heat, her dragonhide greaves singed, and only her undershirt lasted. Technically less of the outfit should have remained, but Freya wasn't completely precise. There was delayed damage to her body, but she couldn't pinpoint where.

"I see... your maneuver stunned you." A flame burned within her clenched fist. "Fighting you made me realize my own mortality. I had always assumed I was ready to die, but I still felt fear just now. I've never felt this way before... maybe it's fulfillment. Now more than ever, my dark power urges me to unleash it all." With a flick of her wrist, the fire in her fist sprouted into a blade of intense fire, much like that ball of fire from before. When she lowered the blade to the ground, the steel floor glowed and dimpled. "That spear of yours... how long can it endure this blade?" She bolted forward, her blade radiant of white fire.

Instinctively, Freya parried the slash of the infernal blade. Dragon Whisker remained unscathed, its invincibility proven. Frustrated, Shannon followed with a storm of cuts. The blade length altered to mess up Freya's judgement. After dozens of clashes, the blade managed to whisk past Freya's thigh. Although the blade made no contact, the leather seered open, and a surgically precise burn cut the flesh like a true edge. Despite the pain, Freya held up. Both had matched themselves, unable to land any blow after that first one. With all the friction and fire, Dragon Whisker developed a faint glow on the edge. This gave Shannon hope, and she pressed even harder. The trade of blows faded into a pure offense on Shannon's part. Freya parried and blocked as best she could without the aid of White Form. It was still too soon to activate it again. Her skin cracked and warped. She was in the same condition as she was before Six Dragons.

When she beheld the firey sword fully, Freya understood that it was only an incredibly dense fire with a compressed tunnel of air to feed it. It wasn't solid, but was a collected force. With this intuition, she knew she had to overpower Shannon's weapon rather than best her in technique. White Form erupted in her, and she deliberately struck the infernal blade. The first clash bent the blade, which confused Shannon and loosened her aggression. The second clash caused a greater distortion in the blade, and the Shannon panicked. With all her might, Freya launched a deadly accurate thrust into the long axis of the blade. It not only pierced the column of fire, it tore through completely and grazed Shannon's shoulder. Such a blade wasn't meant to break, and all that incredible energy violently exploded.

They were blown far apart, and both suffered great damage. Freya had landed backward to Shannon, her shirt completely burned off. The dark knight suffered from a myriad of cuts and lesions. Such abuse of her power had led to her own body's destruction, and she was fated to die soon. When they struggled to their feet, Shannon saw a faint light on Freya's back. Several scars pulsed an iridescent glow.

"What... what is that on your back?"

"This? You don't... know what this is?" Freya stood, but kept her back exposed to Shannon. "Wouldn't it be obvious? This was the attempt on my life when Astos no longer had use for me." She sighed, the memory of that fateful event haunted her once more. She turned around, her eyes shot fear into the dark knight. "At this rate, I won't be the last victim with this sort of burden. This is what he wants. This is how he thinks. This is what you're fighting for."

Shannon stepped back in fright. It had dawned on her the amount of pain and sorrow Freya lived with all those years. "You... you are still alive?" Fire danced upon her dying body. Although her question went unanswered, she knew what to do. Even as her lungs slowly withered, she deeply breathed. Pain shot throughout her body. "Maybe... maybe I can... burn it all away!" No longer did the fire gather upon her, but rather emitted from her. This fire was blue, and it was her breath. The cape which flowed with all her movements before melted on her, and likewise her skin turned the same pattern of red with blue mottles. Her hair became white fire. She raised her arms, and from them she unleashed a terrible inferno.

The whole room was swallowed in the flame. All the metal melted, and the concrete pulverized. The sea of blue flames tore through the wall, and poured outside. Freya was within. Her clothes melted away, and she was carried with the current. She blinked and saw only radiance. Weightless and numb, she only felt silence. Gentle warmth came upon her. A fiery form hovered above, and took the form of a great bird. Freya closed her eyes, then found herself within a new current of flame. The color of this fire couldn't be identified, and it overwhelmed the blue inferno which once dominated the area. This new fire was not only painless, but soothing. All this fire, all this energy, flooded over Shannon. When the chaos cleared, she reclined against a hunk of molten steel and ashes. Her body glowed eerily in spite of the sunlight, her bones visible within her cooking flesh. Whisps of smoke emanated from her fallen form.

Freya stood perfectly healed and reclothed as if she never battled that day. She stood before the defeated Shannon. "I tried so hard to fight against the absence of heat... I forgot about being overwhelmed... by a flame hotter than the sun. What was that?"

"Pheonix. Before I embarked, I was given a special Rebirth Ring by Princess Eiko. It works only once, which was enough for you."

"But I was supposed to control fire better than any eidolon... why did I lose then?"

"That wasn't fire." Her stare and voice were again cold. Shannon held her head low in comprehension of what happened. "What a waste you are."

"It was useless to come here anyway. We would've died so soon with or without you."

"What do you mean?"

"We dark knights give up our very life force for power. We don't live to old age. We've only just established an empire for our people. If all of us were to die at once, there would be no one strong to lead the people. We wanted to prepare the future. That could have been you. Freya, do you honestly believe that what you are doing is right?" Freya noticed the voice echoed in her head, as if it was no longer spoken, but felt in her mind. "Astos alone has brought Burmecia back from oblivion. Now more than ever, there is pride in who we are. I know in my heart that Astos is a good man. He has found each of us, and taken us in during our darkest hours. When you remember Doyle in childhood, he was always sick from exposure to outside spiritual forces. Astos found him and taught him how to control the aura which took harm too readily. Gary competed with Fratley for learning the ways of the White Dragon Order, but lost in a duel. Fratley scored his eye out. Astos came to him in his despair, and told him of the dark power he never knew he had. When Cleyra opened its wind for the first time in a hundred years, and allowed Astos to meet me, he knew the power within me. He gave me the choice beyond dying with Cleyra, to leave and join him in rebuilding the dominion of our ancestors. All I knew then was my limited world of Cleyra, that I would never completely fit in with them. He introduced me to the others, and mentored us all as heirs to Falgabard. Tell me... what profound conviction you have that would drive you to go against such a man?"

"He knows how to destroy a person from the inside out. When you are no longer useful to him, he will discard you. He has done this one time too many. I lost my family, my home, my rank, and the man I loved because of him. All I have left is myself and my spear."

"You are a much stronger person than I ever could be. You've been abandoned by so many, even lost more than I have, yet you still stand. Take my hand." Freya did so, and found her cooked skin to disgustingly melt and adhere like a glue. It was clear the voice came metaphysically, as her mouth had been melted shut. "You will need more than your own techniques to beat him. Take what's left of my power. We dark knights are able to transfer our powers to whomever we chose. Our fathers willingly gave their powers to our master. Astos, the Iron-Mind, holds four other dark powers besides his own. Even if you defeated one power, another quickly replaces it. You would have to be five times a warrior to match him." Her flesh hardened then petrified. What seemed already statue crumbled to dust and blew away to the wind.

* * *

**Glossary**

**Six Dragons** was a move that relied on chance. Typically, it was 1/3 the chance of being healed, 1/3 of being very hurt, and 1/3 of nothing. Freya's perfected technique has a 100 success rate of healing, be it herself or others, behaving much like the white magic **Curaga**. However, it demands sacrifice, which Freya has almost mastered in placing the consequence on an object she holds attachment to. Failure to perfectly do so results in injury after the fact.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Crescent Manor, 22 years before present**

The master watched the two teenagers stand apart from each other. Here, on his estate, he beheld the duel that decided the one worthy to be his pupil. As the only master of the Order of the White Dragon Knights, he was bound by tradition to select only one student to succeed him. The selection process was simple. All who claimed to be worthy for the honor fought to the death. The survivor earned his place as the student. After training the student, the master would put the student to the final test; a duel to the death against the master. To date, no student has failed. The master was slain as proof that his student was the superior warrior. This was a millennia-old tradition, dating before the current Burmecian dynasty. It is said that in those ancient days, there were many students to the single master. This order was one of six that served the ancient kingdom. Only the Order of the White Dragon Knights has survived to the present. History altered the succession process. As the old kingdom vanished, and later kingdoms passed by, the order dwindled as a survival mechanism. With only one master and student of elite choice, the order intensified its heirs to supernatural levels.

Recent times have softened the succession process. The competition to select the student changed such that the master ended the match just before the finishing blow was dealt. Even the duel between master and student allows for the survival of the master, but only as a retired mentor. Sir Freyr Crescent is the current master. His daughter still too young, Freyr decided to select one of the two best students in the military academy, the best youths in all of Burmecia, that would succeed him.

The two boys were opposite in character. Gary was the serious, quiet student. He dedicated himself to be the best warrior in the country. Consequently, he had no friends and peers found him quite boring. Fratley, whom only went by his surname, was laid-back and care-free. Despite his lazy, class-clown attitude, he still managed to outperform his peers in every field. Undoubtedly, this was a contest of a genius against an ascetic.

Fratley casually held his bardiche over his shoulder. He taunted Gary, whom stood ready with his gladius and buckler. Freyr gave the signal, and both began their duel. The master observed each boy's style, his trained eyes able to dissect their movements and read their flaws. Gary, although relentless, was too rigid in his motions, enough to telegraph to a competent opponent. Fratley was drunk. A delinquent, he frequently cut school to gamble and drink. This very morning of the duel was no different than a school day to him. Logically, Fratley wasn't in fighting condition, yet he proved an even match to Gary.

"You're too slow! Quit moving like a stiff one and start moving like a smooth one!" Fratley taunted as he avoided a thrust. His posture looked as if he simply lost balance rather than intentionally dodge. He flicked a finger on Gary's nose.

"Quit being so arrogant!" Gary pressed his buckler into Fratley's face. Both froze in position for a moment. Fratley leaned back from the blow, but remained still. "What? You've finally come to your senses?" When a grin cracked on his face, Gary noticed a flicker on the back of his buckler. The flicker grew to radiance. Freyr watched as the buckler was penetrated not by a weapon, but by the very tip of Fratley's tail.

Fratley pulled the tail back, and saw blood on the tip. He only look confused about another matter when Gary broke down in agony. How easy was it for the tail to continue to the brain? The bloody mess that was the eyeball gushed from the socket. Unwilling to take this demeaning blow, Gary raised his gladius to Fratley. However, at the sight of blood on his tail, he childishly exclaimed "Ew, blood!" Fratley flicked the blood off his tail, but slapped the gladius away as well. By sheer dumb luck he disarmed Gary.

Freyr ended the duel. He judged the superior. "It is decided. Fratley shall be my student." He approached, and both boys found him of far greater, kingly stature than King Burmecia.

"No! It can't be! This drunken asshole mocks us all!"

"Even drunk, he still overwhelmed you. He has no scruples in combat, and used his own body as a weapon. If he is only half as good as he can be today, he's proven himself twice as capable than anyone else in your generation."


End file.
